I snook up behind the BF-109. Luckily, he hadn't noticed me yet, as he was busy hunting for Rory. When I thought the time was ready, I opened fire. I unleashed a deadly wave of rounds, hurtling towards him.
I watched as my bullets began to tear his tail end up. The 109 dove steeply to avoid being ripped to pieces. I checked my 6 o clock. Clear. Good.
I once again found that I had become terrified. My hands began to sweat and trmeble. I found it hard to control the Hurricane. Somehow, I regained control, and followed him down.
The radio crackled. "Are you okay over there? It's getting a bit hot over here, these damn 109's just can't leave me alone!"
"I'm just dealing with this 109 here, do you want backup?"
I heard gunfire over the radio. "Yes, it....would...be...." I geard more gunfire as Rory cursed. "sorry, just got another one," he told me, his voice quavering with fear. "Yea, help would be good. Get that 109 and get over here!!"
"Okay, on my way," I replied, as I opened fire on the Messerschmitt that I was busy chasing.
The 109 pulled away from my immediate threat and swung his aircraft up. Damn, I thought, they made it look so easy in fighter training.
He leveled out as I still plummeted down towards the rolling French fields. I barely managed to lift my Hurricane above the bushes. Dogfighting is suicide, I told myself. Thank God I only have to deal with bombers, I'll get this over with and go back to defending Britain.
I pulled up vertically. I was overcome by a strong feeling of nausea and I nearly blacked out. Luckily, I leveled out - right onto the incoming path of two 109's.
I yanked the stick back, nearly pulling it out of it's place. The belly of the Hurricane was taking fire, so I frantically used the rudder to avoid any more damage. Nope. A few more 109's came out of what seemed to be nowhere, and started ripping my port wing to shreds. I felt the aircraft lurch.
I soon lost control of my elevons. "Mayday, mayday," I called over the radion, "this isn't looking good."
"Can you pull up?" I heard Rory call.
"No, the damn 109's got me.....fighting for control..... I don't think I'll live through this one, Rory," I told him, as I felt my heart sink deep. "All my months of training, for this? What is the point?" I began to groan. I looked back on all the wonderful, joyous times that I had when training with Rory. And now, only after 2 months of frontline service, I'm about to die? What a miserable, horrible defeat.
I remembered my family. My sweet, caring family. At least I was safe back home with them. now, I no longer had that safety, stuck in a hurricane cockpit with Messerscmitt BF-109's tearing my Hurricane apart.
I felt the engine stall. They've got me, then, I thought. I called over the radio for what may be the last time. "rory, I'm going to have to perform a crash landing, I hope you fight off these b****rs, I'll see you round...." A tear welled in my eye, as depression caught up with me.
The ground loomed ever nearer. Tracers whizzed past my head. I seemesd to lose my sense of direction. I felt suddenly cheerful.........
Part 4 to come soon!
